


almost inexplicable perversity

by seinmit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Symbiotic Tentacle Acquisition, Breathplay, Consentacles, Location in Time and Space Totally Unspecified, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Setup is "For Reasons That Don't Need Exploring At This Juncture", Possible Mental Manipulation, Steve Rogers' Sexual Orientation is Double Dog Dare, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: He had a strange job. Sometimes strange things happened.“Huh,” Steve said. He twisted a little in the mirror. There were tentacles. Those were new.





	almost inexplicable perversity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimra/gifts).

> Title is from "The Call of Cthulhu," by HP Lovecraft--but it really could be from anywhere, I suppose.
> 
> If you want a visual for what the liquid seeping out of the tentacles kinda looks like, check [this](https://i.imgur.com/CR8Y3j7.gif) out.

He had a strange job. Sometimes strange things happened. 

“Huh,” Steve said. He twisted a little in the mirror. There were tentacles. Those were new. 

They were an iridescent dark grey and they emerged from his hips and back. When Steve got a good look at his back, it wasn’t so much they were coming from him as they were attached to him—the dark skin from which the tentacles emerged had plastered itself to his entire back, starting just above his ass and reaching up to the point where his neck met his spine. It was a couple of inches thick and felt warm against his skin. 

There were eight tentacles, four on each side of his body. They were hovering in the air, attentive. The small movements they made were oriented toward the mirror as if they were examining themselves too.

He reached out and grabbed one, none-too-gently, but at his touch, an electric shock zipped down his spine. It twisted out of his grip and he let it, startled by the sensation. 

“Are you planning on killing me or something?” Steve asked. He felt like he should be more worried about this than he was. Maybe it was an effect of whatever this creature was and whatever it was doing to him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be overly bothered. Mostly, he was fascinated. 

One of the topmost tentacles leaned into Steve’s face and flicked his nose. 

Steve snapped at it with his teeth, like he was joking back. It tapped his closed mouth, almost reprovingly, before darting away again.

“I don’t think you’re planning on killing me,” Steve said. “Or at least I hope not.” 

He probably should go find Bruce or Tony or someone, let them know that the battle they’d just finished had left him with a passenger. Really, this should all be more urgent, but he was more concerned with trying to discern if the sheen of colors he could see playing over the dark skin of his new tentacles was going to resolve into anything in particular. 

Reaching out again, he ran two fingers down the length of one of them. Gentle, this time, not aiming to grab. As if to reward him, he felt a warm flush emanate from the base of his spine, sinking into his belly. 

“Oh,” Steve said. “Okay.” 

When Steve got out of the ice and was finally allowed access to the internet, it hadn’t taken him long to find blue movies. Tony, later, had informed him very seriously that was what the internet was _for_ and honestly, even though Steve knew he was joking, based on the quantity of pornography out there it seemed pretty accurate. 

He’d found men and women, men and men, women and women. Before long, he was reaching out into animated pictures, things that no person on earth had actually experienced. There were tentacles in those movies. Maybe not quite like this, but not so different. At first, he told himself he was watching the animated porn out of respect for the art. Eventually, he admitted it was mostly for the tentacles—hentai wasn't exactly Miyazaki. 

He rubbed the tentacle with his fingers a little firmer. The skin was dry and soft. To the touch, a faint pattern of overlapping scales emerged. Shifting his grip, he wrapped his fingers entirely around it and stroked it a bit more firmly. The soft ridges grew a little, under his touch, and became more pronounced. It was getting excited, maybe. 

This maybe shouldn’t be his first reaction, but he had a fantasy playing behind his eyelids and whatever this creature was, it seemed mostly friendly. And Steve had a hard time resisting going for something, when the thought occurred to him that he could. It had gotten him into Bucky’s bed, way back, and under the skirts of a wide variety of USO dancers, and Clint and Bruce both not long after the Chitauri. He tried to be respectful, but at the same time, it was hard to resist the urge to take advantage of sexual opportunities in front of him. 

And if he was reading this right, there was an opportunity right here. 

One of the tentacles at about eye-level reached for his face, tracing the line of his closed lips more firmly now. Steve parted them, letting it in. He cupped his tongue around it and it wriggled, feeling oddly delicate. It tasted like ozone and tannins, making his mouth fill helplessly with saliva. He could feel the ridges against the roof of his mouth.

After a moment of enjoying the new sensation, he consciously sucked, swallowing his spit around it. In response, it thrust deep into his throat, making him gag and his eyes water. 

He could feel it twist and he reached up to cup his own throat, feeling the thick muscle move from the outside. He could feel a strangled noise emerge out of his chest, choked on the tentacle deep in his throat. 

Opening his eyes, he could see himself in the mirror—pink lips stretched wide around a dark grey mass, so different than a cock, his eyes watering and his cheeks already flushed. The image made his own prick jump and he felt like a narcissist, just a little, but the tentacle pushing deeper chased the worry out of his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. 

He stumbled forward, hips hitting his bathroom counter, and braced himself on one arm. 

The tentacle in his throat started thrusting, pushing deeper than he thought possible, and his lips stung with the stretch around it. It was thick and seemingly unconcerned with how his teeth couldn’t help but scrape against its large mass. 

He shuddered, his whimper echoing around the bathroom. It sounded pathetic and it made him burn. 

With the hand not supporting himself, he reached down and clumsily unbuttoned his pants, pushing them and his underwear down over his hips. The other tentacles got with the program. One of them ran over his closed eyes, down to trace the thick muscle invading his mouth, before slipping down further to rub firmly against his nipple. He jerked, surprised, and it rubbed him again. 

Another pushed its way between Steve’s asscheeks. The muscle pressed against Steve’s dry hole and Steve rocked his hips back into it. 

His skin felt hot all over and he could feel sweat start to prickle on his body. Another tentacle went between his legs in the front and rubbed his dick with the flat side of itself, like a girl stroking her pussy with her whole hand. He pressed up into it and then pushed back into the one teasing his ass, caught between two delicious and conflicting sensations. 

There was slickness gathering on his hole, enough that it was dripping down his ass and between his thighs. He grunted, the liquid feeling filthy and delicious. It was so much fluid, so immediately, almost gushing out of the tentacle. He wondered what the secretion tasted like. 

At the thought, his mouth filled with even more fluid, slipping over his tongue and down his throat. It was bitter and metallic, like something from a machine instead of an animal, with an undertone of pine. Steve loved the tastes and smells of sex, but this wasn’t sexual in the way humans were sexual—he loved it anyway. His mouth was too full to suck, but he didn’t even need to—he was almost drowning in new liquid.

He moaned, the bitterness of the flavor just reminding him how fucked this was, how fucked up _he was_ and how he was begging for it. 

A voice in his head, cool and knowing, asked him if this who Captain America was and he just gurgled yes around the thick muscle in his throat. 

The tentacle teasing his ass entered him, just a little—enough to make him choke on the length in his throat, in eagerness and increasing desperation. He rocked his hips and it slipped back. He’d be begging for it, if he had the words. He felt a laughing consciousness like the creature knew he was begging anyway. 

It didn’t make him wait long. After a couple more moments of teasing, Steve spreading his thighs and trying to make his desires amply clear, it pressed its way into him. It didn’t stop. It kept pushing, rearranging his insides, until it felt like he was taking someone’s arm. 

Steve’s body burned and ached, hyper-aware of this intrusion. His dick didn’t soften, though, and the tentacle rubbing it was dripping with its own fluid. His thighs and groin were covered in liquid, his own pre-come and the creature’s secretion mixing and drying entirely undifferentiated. 

He was overwhelmed enough that he sunk to the floor, his forehead resting against the cabinet door and hands and knees on the cool tile floor. He was flushed, overheated, and the tentacles that were attached to him seemed emboldened to explore. He felt slick wetness run across his cheek and into his hair. Another tentacle rubbed against his pecs and nipples, with the gentle curiosity of an animal. 

In this position, he felt strung up by the tentacles. They rocked him between his mouth and his ass, pressing him deeper into the one in his mouth with the pressure in his hole and vice versa. 

He was full, impossibly full. His engineered body was being pushed to his limits, only because he could, only because this creature wanted to destroy him in a more fun way than usual. 

He came and the feeling surprise him, punched out of him by the tentacle in his ass. It didn’t stop. In fact, it fucked him harder, pushing him with enough force that his forehead slammed against the cabinet and he grunted deep in his chest. 

Steve let his body go limp, curled up on the floor. He’d never been overwhelmed like this and he wanted to lean into it. He was entirely out of control. 

The creature attached to him didn’t seem to care and fucked him anyway, his body jerked around against his will. The tentacle at his dick didn’t stop rubbing for a second, his own come being pushed back into his skin and the hair around his groin. He didn’t even get soft, but the feeling was sharp and almost painful. Everything he was feeling was almost painful, not quite—the ache and burn hitting him with a narcotic sweetness.

It fucked him and he took it, he took it. All he could do was take it. All his strength and power nothing in the face of what he had invited and what was now taking its fill. 

He kept choking on the muscle in his throat, but it didn’t relent. Tears were running out of his eyes and he wasn’t sure if it was reflex or simply being overcome. They joined the fluid already covering his skin, already making the floor slick and dangerous.

He came again and he could feel it convulse the thick muscles in his back and thighs. It didn’t stop. 

It fucked him, and it fucked him, and it touched him all over until. It pressed deeper into his throat, cutting off his air entirely now, and he felt this strange floating feeling. He didn’t struggle—people struggled when they drowned, but sparks of light floated behind his eyelids and liquid heat suffused every inch of his body and—

He came again and then blacked out.

* * *

When he woke up, he was empty. His throat ached like he’d swallowed sandpaper and his ass had a discomfiting loose feeling, thighs slippery and gross. The liquid all around his body had mostly dried into tacky residue. 

The creature on his back was still warm, still present. It felt heavier, now. Something about the weight of it felt smug. 

Steve lay there, curled up on the bathroom floor, and couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.


End file.
